


30 Year Old Whiskey from Japan

by eirallina



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Banter, F/M, Falling In Love, False Identity, Heart-to-Heart, Love at First Sight, Sexual Content, Walk Into A Bar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 12:03:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7933951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eirallina/pseuds/eirallina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two strangers sit at the bar and play a game of truth or lie. If they fall in love in the process, then they have the whiskey to blame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	30 Year Old Whiskey from Japan

**Author's Note:**

> This one shot was originally 15,000 words long. Thankfully, for both our sakes, I've edited out the unnecessary parts and leave you with a one shot of around 9,000 words. I hope you like it.
> 
> Warning: explicit sexual content.

“It’s all about the lies,” she said.

He turned his attention from the rum and coke in his hand to look at the blonde woman sitting beside him at the bar, partly amused and intrigued by her statement.

“Oh yeah?” He asked. “Does this mean you’ve been lying to me all this time?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She replied with a laugh. Her light golden curls shimmered like glitter in the dim candlelight and he wondered if it was as soft as it looked. She took a sip of her gin and tonic and shrugged. “How about it? Let’s play a game of truth or lie. You go first.”

“Hey, why do I have to go first? You’re the one who wants to play.”

She laughed again, the melodic voice a welcoming touch to the cacophony of sounds around them.

“You’re the one who approached me with a drink, boy.”

He smiled at the statement and nodded his head. He did approach her earlier on in the night but only because she looked like she needed a drinking partner and he was in search of one. There was nothing sexual in his approach and he thinks she understood this because she surprisingly did not reproach him. Given the amount of amusement he garnered from their exchange, he was glad for it.

“Mhm…” He thought about what he could and could not say before settling in neutral territory. “My name is Bell.”

“Bell? That’s not a common name for a guy.”

“I’m not a common guy.”

She raised an eyebrow at his statement and he couldn’t do anything else but chuckle.

“Is it short for something?”

“Perhaps.” He replied. She smiled at his evasiveness. “What’s your name?”

“Claire.”

“Is it short for something?” He repeated her question.

“Clarisse.”

“It’s a beautiful name.”

“I’m a beautiful person.”

He raised an eyebrow at this just to taunt her, but she simply smirked at him. Amused, he raised his glass of liquor in her direction. She copied him.

“To Claire, the beautiful person.”

“To Bell, the uncommon common guy.”

They took a sip of their respective drinks as a toast to their new found friendship.

“It’s your turn.” He said after a moment. “What will you tell me, a lie or a truth?”

“Mhmm…. Let’s see…” A pause. “I have a cat. His name is Whiskers.”

“And I have a dog. His name is Wooof.”

They looked at each other then, faces frozen in exasperation. A smile broke the serious expression on her face and slowly his face mirrored hers until both of them were holding in what was obviously a bout of laughter just waiting to burst.

“You two need another drink or are you guys okay?” The bartender appeared all of a sudden, interrupting their staring contest. The two turned to look at the bartender and whatever they were holding in exploded into a melodious echo of hysterical laughter. The bartender looked at them, clearly not amused. “I’ll… come back later...”

With that statement, he left the couple alone at the end of the bar.

“You can’t be serious.” She said in between laughs when they calmed down a bit.

“Oh so you can name your cat Whiskers but I can’t name my dog Woof?”

“It’s a ridiculous name!”

“You’re ridiculous.” He retorted back.

“Great come back.” She rolled his eyes and pushed his drink closer to his hand. “Take a drink. You’re lying.”

“We should both take a drink for our terrible lying skills.”

“Fine.”

The woman let out a small scoff before finishing the rest of her gin and tonic. He did likewise. Once she finished, she slammed the glass on the wooden bar and swiveled her chair so that she was facing him instead of the bar’s shelves of liquor. The movement directed his attention to the beautiful dress that she had on and he couldn’t help but admire the gorgeous work. It was a simple navy dress with thin straps and a flowing asymmetrical skirt. But the intricately placed lace details that hid but also accentuated her curves elevated the attire to an entirely different level. Simply put, she made the dress as beautiful as her.  

“That’s a gorgeous dress you have,” he said.

“Thanks. You’re not too shabby looking yourself.”

The woman grazed her blue eyes up and down his body, her eyes not once hinting whether or not she liked it, until her head moved in an almost imperceptible nod of approval. He couldn’t blame her. Like her, he had on a black formal evening suit complete with a black tie, fancy tie bar, and the dress shoes to match. He didn’t know much about women, but he knew most women can’t resist a well-dressed man.

“I try.” He replied with a nonchalant shrug. “With that gorgeous dress on you, shouldn’t you be out on a date or something? Why are you here drinking all by yourself?”

“What, a woman can’t drink at a bar of a luxury five star hotel in a fancy dress if she wants to?”

“Of course she can. I just didn’t expect to find her sharing a drink with a stranger like me in the middle of the night.” She glanced down at the six glasses in between the two of them and looked up at him. “Alright, fine. Three drinks each.”

“It’s only 12:30. I think we need more than 3 drinks each, don’t you?” Claire waved the bartender down. When he approached, she gave him a dazzling smile. “I heard rumors that the bar recently obtained some bottles of 30 year old whiskey from Japan. Can you confirm the purchase and can I have a bottle, please?”

“I might be able to,” the bartender said cautiously. “It depends on who is asking and if they know what they’re asking for.”

“I’m asking about the Hibiki Suntory whiskey. Griffin’s the name. I should be on your list.”

“Let me check.”

With that, the bartender walked away to check his stocks in the back room.

“30 year old whiskey from Japan?” He asked.

She nodded. The glimmer of excitement in her eyes was unmistakable.

“I think you’ll like it.”

“It sounds expensive.”

“I have expensive tastes. It comes with the family background.”

He looked at her once again. He didn’t notice it the first time, but he could see this time she had some very expensive jewelry to go with her equally expensive dress and high heels.

“So you’re a rich girl.”

She laughed.

“Go on, Bell.” He cleared his throat at the sudden dryness in his mouth when she said his name. “You know you want to say a rich _snobby_ girl.”

“So you’re a rich _snobby_ princess.” In the corner of his eyes, he could see the bartender making his way back to them so he quickly finished his rum and coke. “Anything else I should know?”

“I like oranges.”

He laughed at the randomness of her confession.

“Do you really?” He asked skeptically.

“No,” she said. She wrinkled her nose. “I hate it with a passion.”

“Alright, your name checks out.” The bartender said when he approached.

In his hand was a sleek looking bottle of whiskey with what he assumed was Hibiki’s signature logo in dark calligraphy. Claire looked at the bottle and nodded her head in approval. With her permission, the bartender gently opened the cap of the bottle and poured out two shots of the whiskey. The sweet smell of vanilla and fruit permeated their surroundings and he took a deep breath in to indulge in its scent. Once finished, the bartender nudged the shots to them and recapped the bottle.

“Thank you. Charge it to my room.” Claire said to the bartender. The bartender nodded, gently put the bottle to the side, and walked away. She turned to him then. “Ready for this?”

He smiled, grabbed his shot of whiskey, and nodded.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Together, the two of them took a sip of their whiskey. He closed his eyes and reveled in the taste of it, all smooth and heavy with the scent of woodiness, and rich in flavor. He didn’t know a lot about liquors and spirits, but he knew the whiskey was damn perfection. The sound of a soft moan brought him out of his whiskey haze and he opened his eyes to look over at his companion.

He could just tell she was enjoying the bitter finish of the whiskey, its warm and lingering taste a welcoming feeling in her tongue. He cleared his throat at the sight of her taking pleasure in the drink. The sudden warm feeling taking hold inside him had nothing to do with the 30 year old whiskey he just tried and everything to do with Claire. When she turned to look straight at him, lips partly open and eyes glimmering with satisfaction, he couldn’t help but lick his lips.

“So… How was it?” She asked, smiling.  

“You know what I’m about to say, so why ask?”

“I want to know what you thought.”

“It’s ridiculously good.”

She nodded her head, her index finger tracing the rim of the shot glass in contemplation.

“It’s worth the price.”

“I’m afraid to even ask.”

She picked up her glass again for a second sip and he did the same. The second sip was just as good as the first, if not more.

“I think it’s retailed at around five thousand dollars.” He looked at her in alarm and almost spit out the whiskey in his mouth. But as if anticipating his reaction, Claire pressed her index finger on his lips and gave him a teasing glare. “It’s disrespectful to spit out expensive whiskey, Bell.”

He quickly swallowed the whiskey, the woodiness of the drink burning his nose. Satisfied, she removed her finger from his lips.

“It’s five thousand dollars a _bottle_?”

“I told you, I have expensive tastes.”

“My god, I might have to go on a diet to save money and buy one.”

She laughed and gestured towards the bottle in front of them.

“It’s yours if you want it.”

“No, no. I was only joking.”

“I was not.”

He scoffed.

“Of course you weren’t, princess.”

“Of course not.” She looked him up and down again. “Did you attend that medical conference they hosted or something? Why are you so dressed up?”

“A medical conference, in this attire?”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Why not that attire? You would have everyone’s attention if you went to the conference in that get up.”

“The wrong kind of attention.” He pointed out.

“And what’s the right kind of attention then?” Claire asked.

She rested her elbow against the wooden bar and propped her chin on the back of her hand. The movement caused one of the thin lace straps of her dress to slip down her shoulder. He did not know whether she intended for that to happen, but the slight slip was undeniably sultry in nature. If she noticed him looking at her bare shoulder, she did not react to it. After a moment, he moved his gaze to look straight into the woman’s deep set blue eyes, never taking his eyes off her as he reached over and slowly traced his finger over the soft curve of her shoulder. When his finger reached the strap of her dress, he gently pulled it up and righted it. His hand didn’t leave her shoulder.

“The kind of attention you’re giving me.” He replied boldly.

The answer brought a smile to Claire’s face, but she said nothing to his statement. Instead, she finished her shot of whiskey, grabbed her empty shot glass, and slipped off the bar stool. Her flowing skirt trailed behind her in a mist of glittering blue. She turned to him then and raised an eyebrow, her head slightly tilted to a side in question. A second later, she turned around and walked away. He watched her for a few seconds, mesmerized by the reveal of the open back on her dress and the tattoo lining the spine of her back. He had not noticed it before, but now that he could he could not draw his eyes away from it. Without further prompting, he quickly finished his drink, grabbed his shot glass and the expensive bottle of whiskey she forgot, and followed her into the lobby of the hotel.

“A warning could have been nice,” he commented when he caught up with her.

“Come on Bell, let’s take a walk. Is that what you wanted to hear?” He rolled his eyes at her answer and she flashed him a smile. “So if you’re not here for the conference, why are you here?”  

“Truth or lie?”

“Whatever you want.”

“I’m here for a wedding.” He said.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. You probably saw the signs today when you came in. It’s the Collins/Reyes wedding.” She glanced at him then, skepticism written all over her face. “I’ll have you know I’m the best man. That’s why I’m dressed to the nines.”

“And what is the best man doing at the bar when he should be getting the groom drunk?”

“Well I can’t exactly get him drunk if he’s all over his wife, now can I?”

“Fair point.”

Without knowing it, the two of them had walked through the hotel lobby and was now standing in front of three big elevators. Claire took a moment to decide. When she did, she chose the doors leading to the stairs and began her ascension up. He followed her, their footsteps echoing in the silence of the stairs. He wasn’t sure where they were going, but he didn’t particularly care. 

“What about you, princess? Why are you dressed to the nines?”

“I was also attending a wedding,” she replied. “Not the Collins/Reyes wedding. It was a different wedding in a different venue. I didn’t like it much, so I left to come drink thirty year old whiskey with a best man who apparently also ditched a wedding.”

“Why didn’t you like it?”

“I thought the bride deserved better than the lying cheating scumbag she was marrying.”

“He’s cheating on her? You should have told her.”

“She knew.”

“She still married him?”

Claire stopped walking then and turned her body to face his.  

“What can I say, Bell?” She gave him a sad smile. The look on her face made him heart twist just a little on the inside. Just a little. “People are stupid when they’re in love.”

“He’s not in love if he’s cheating on her. Like you said, people who cheat are scumbags.”

“But she’s madly in love with him and here we are.”

He returned her smile with a nod of his head.  

“I hear you.” A pause. “But you know what?”

“What?”

“People aren’t stupid when they’re in love with a thirty year old whiskey from Japan. That’s what.” She rolled her eyes. But despite her exasperation with him, she still held out her glass. He expertly poured her a shot and filled up his glass as well. It amazed him that he didn’t spill a single drop of the expensive whiskey. “To love of whiskey.”

“To love of whiskey.” Claire giggled and downed her shot. He finished his as well. “God this is good.”

At the declaration, she let out a deep sigh and slowly settled herself down on the steps. The shot glass in her hand was placed two steps above her. Recognizing that this was the spot she wanted to rest, he turned and sat down next to her. The feel of her bare arms against his was almost too warm, but he didn’t move away from her. He didn’t want to.

“Thanks for the drink.” He said. He put the whiskey bottle away next to the shot glasses. “Now I feel obligated to buy you something.”

“Oh?” She perked up. “What will you buy me to cover the large $5,000 deficit?”

“Now hold on here. I’m not paying you five thousand. Nobody has the money for that.”

“If you can afford this suit…” Claire reached over and brushed her fingers over the lapel of his suit jacket, tugging at it a little before letting go. The sudden closeness of her face against his took his breath away and he gulped. She looked up at him and smirked, slowly pulling away in such a teasing manner he wanted to call her out on it. But no, he let her go. “I’m pretty sure you can cough up $5,000 for my whiskey.”

“Not everyone was born with a silver spoon, princess. Some people have to work hard for it.”

Inwardly, he winced at the harshness of his statement and tried to backtrack but it was too late.

“Are you trying to say I don’t work hard?” She asked with a raised eyebrow. He said nothing. “I do. So much more than you think. Do you know how hard it is to live up to your family’s legacies and try to make at least a footprint in that legacy book? I worked hard to be known for my own work rather than the works of my parents. I worked hard to be recognized as a person and not just a name in the family tree. I might not work as hard as you Bell, but don’t try to negate my hardships just because I’m the princess and you had it harder.”

They sat in silence, letting Claire's declaration sink in. After a moment, he asked:

“What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a doctor. I save lives and kill people for a living.” The statement was delivered with such a calm façade, he had no doubts she was telling him the truth. “What about you?”

“I’m a celebrity.” He said with a smile.

The ludicrous statement caught her off guard and she let out a laugh. He tried to act offended.

“Are you… Are you serious?” She asked. “You, a celebrity? I’ve never heard of you before.”

“No? Really? I was told I’m pretty popular with the ladies.”

She snorted at this.

“Fine then, I’ll bite. What kind of celebrity are you?”

“I’m a singer.”

“How famous are you?”

“I’d say as famous as Taylor Swift.”

“With the drama?”

He shook his head.

“Without the drama. I’m a pretty low key singer. I’m not surprised you haven’t heard of me.”

“If I heard your name on the radio, I’d probably think you were a girl.”

“I can’t blame you. Bell is a pretty feminine name.”

Claire giggled at this and nodded her head in agreement.

“You told me it was short for something.”

“It’s short for Bellamy.” He looked at her then, trying to see if there were any traces of recognition on her face. “Ring any bells?”

She looked at him with an eyebrow raised.

“It’s short for Bellamy. Ring any bells?” She mimicked. “Of course it rings a bell. There’s a crap ton of Bells in that sentence.”

“You think you’re hilarious, don’t you?”

“Do I think so? Yes, yes I do.” He poked her in the ribs for her audacity and she shrieked with laughter. “What’s your style then, Mr. Celebrity-As-Famous-As-Swiftie?”

“Pop music. But I love rhythm and blues.”

“Have you released anything I’ve heard before?”

“You never even heard of me, so that’s a no.”

“Sing something for me, Bellamy.” Claire said, nudging him with her knee. “Let me hear your voice.”

He contemplated the option for a moment, looking out into the great expanse of the barren staircase they were sitting on, and then turned back to look at Claire’s face. She was so beautiful it made him feel like he was aching on the inside. And the way she listened to him… It’s been a while since he had such raw intimacy. Yes, they were both tipsy if not slightly drunk. But that did not mean their experiences was nothing.  He took a deep breath and looked away from her. A second later, he began to sing a slow ballad version of the popular rhythm and blues song “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough”. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Claire raptly listening. Her eyes were closed, her head was swaying to the music, and she hummed alongside with him at the start of the second verse.

When he was finished, he turned his gaze to Claire and saw that she still had her eyes closed. The messy bun she had was slowly unraveling and the pale wisps of blonde hair were fluttering around her face, obscuring her eyes. Without thinking about it, he raised his hand up, gently touched her face, and brushed the locks away. She immediately opened her eyes at the warm contact. He stared into her blue eyes and moved his gaze to her lips when he saw her tongue emerge and lick her lips. He swallowed, his eyes going back to look at her as his hand slowly moved down to touch the edge of her lips.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, breaking the silence around them with the roughness of his voice.

“Yes.”

It felt like he was waiting for the answer the whole night. As soon as she uttered the word, he leaned forward and gently pressed his lips against hers. She put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him closer, returning his kisses with fervor. When she traced her fingers through his curly hair, he inched closer and nudged her lips with his tongue. She let out a moan, something he’s been wondering about all night, and opened her mouth to take him in. So he took as much of her as he could. The mix of the spicy whiskey with the taste of her was intoxicating and he wanted more. But he refrained, purposefully slowing down their kiss until the passion dwindled to gentle pecks on the lips. Then, they stopped. But they didn’t pull away from each other. Instead, they pressed their foreheads together and enjoyed the long awaited feel of intimacy.

“You have a very beautiful voice,” she said after a moment.

“I told you, I’m a singer. Of course I have a nice voice.”

“Some singers can’t sing and they’re still singers.”

“I’m not one of them.”

“No, you’re not. But you know what you are though?”

“What?”

“You’re the person who owes me $5,000 worth of food.” Claire smirked at the shock on his face and slowly pulled away from their embrace, patting her tummy for emphasis. “I’m hungry.”

He couldn’t help but snort at the statement.

“Like I said, nobody got the money for that. But I am willing to pay for maybe a burger and fries. That’s probably the only thing open right now anyway.”

“Didn’t you tell me you went to a wedding? Surely they have food.”

“Claire, it’s 1 in the morning.” He reminded her.

“Surely they have food,” she repeated without batting an eyelash.

He threw his head back and guffawed loudly. The look on her face was so hilarious he could not resist. A second later, Claire joined him in the hilarity.

“Alright, alright…” He said, a little breathless from the laughing. “How about this? Let’s order room service. I’m pretty sure they have 24 hour room service here.”

“I doubt room service will bring us food here on the stairs.”

“That’s why we should get back to our rooms, smarty pants.” He pushed himself off the steps and offered his hand. “Come on, get up. My ass would like to sit on a comfortable chair right about now.”

“Language, Bell.” She said teasingly, taking the proffered hand and getting up from the steps. “You know, I wasn’t kidding when I said you have a nice voice.”

“You told me my voice was beautiful,” he pointed out. “How did I get from absolutely beautiful to _nice_?”

“Feed me some food and I’ll promote you back to beautiful.” Claire said with a wink.

She grabbed the bottle of whiskey and glasses from the floor and began walking up the stairs. How she was still able to walk in a straight line with those heels, he’ll never know.

“What are you in the mood for?”

“Lobsters, caviar, whatever expensive thing they have on the menu. I mean, you are paying so…”

“So like, burgers and fries?” He suggested.

“Excuse you, I didn’t pay $5,000 for burgers and fries. My bank account would weep.”

“People pay hundreds of dollars to hear me sing. You just got a free showing. I don’t know why you’re complaining.”

She laughed.

“Well, you better sing me $5,000 worth of songs or else.”

“That seems like an easy thing to do. My room has a big piano. I can definitely play you any song you want.”

“Was that a euphemism?” Claire gave him an odd but amused look.

He frowned, not understanding her statement. But then it dawned on him and he felt blood rushing to his face.

“No, no, not at all. I just meant… Well… I have a grand piano in my hotel room and if you want me to play some songs for you, I can do it no problem. That’s…” He let out a frustrated groan. “That’s all I meant.”

“I’m sure that’s what you meant.” Her teasing voice suggested otherwise.

“Get your mind out of the gutter.” He commanded.

“I don’t want to. You’re the one blushing.”

“You started it.”

Claire gave him a withering look and shook her head. Unable to say anything else, he cleared his head and put his head down. The two of them walked up the stairs in silence for a few minutes, their footsteps echoing in the barren stairway.

“You know, I just had a thought.”

“What’s the thought?”

“You told me you attended a wedding so it’s obvious that you have a room here along with the rest of the wedding party. But how is it that you have a grand piano in your room? How long have you been here and how much did you bribe the hotel staff to sneak a piano in? Either you’re a terrible liar, or you’re actually a singer. I can’t tell the difference.”

He chuckled at the inquisitive question and Claire’s insightful observation.

“Why not both?”

“The game is truth or lie.”

“We’re not playing a traditional game of truth or lie so the rules are obsolete.” He looked around for any indication of what floor they’re on and turned to his companion. They stopped walking. “So? Are you going to my room or will we continue walking this stairway and hope we find a piano somewhere?”

“Bellamy,” she scoffed. “That’s no way to proposition a woman.”

“Who says I’m propositioning you?” He asked with a quirk of his eyebrow. “If I wanted to, I would have asked you when we were at the bar. I just want to invite you to my room so I can pay back my $5,000 debt with food and song.”

He was lying through his teeth and the look on her face told him she knew.

“They better be amazing songs.”

“The best original songs I’ve ever written.” He promised. “Also, if you want to go to my room you should take that door to your left there.”

She turned to read the huge block print on the door and let out a small gasp.

“Holy shit, we walked up nine floors?”

“Yeah I’m pretty surprised myself. I thought one of us would have fallen at least several times by now.”

“You mean me?”

“Yes.”

Claire smacked him lightly on the arm for his audacity.

“Alright, take me to your room. I am in desperate need of water anyway. Please tell me you have some water on top of that grand piano of yours.”

He ignored her teasing comments and went to open the door. She curtsied at him as a form of thanks and they laughed at the gesture as they walked into the 9th floor and escaped the coldness that was the barren stairway. When they reached room number 959, he keyed in his card and they entered the suite. It was a studio suite with a spacious living room, a fully equipped kitchen, and an extra-large bathroom. Right smack in the middle of the living room space was the Steinway grand piano he was telling Claire about.

“So it’s true then,” Claire said after a moment. He glanced at her, self-consciously rubbing his hands together. Whether he could admit it to her or not, he recognized that this was the first time he brought a stranger to his private work space and it made him nervous. Claire walked over to the grand piano and sat down on the stool. She set the bottle of whiskey and shot glasses on the floor near the instrument. “You do have a piano. A _big_ one.”

He made an exaggerated roll of his eyes.

“Please stop teasing me.”

“Never.”

As Claire ran her fingers over the keys of the piano, he took several steps forward so that he was several feet behind her. Mesmerized by the great expanse of her back, he reached out and gently brushed his finger over the tattoo. She tensed up as he traced his finger up her spine but said nothing. Now that he was looking at it in better lighting, he could tell the tattoo consisted of small simple black dots with specks of white in varying designs. There were nine dots altogether and they lined her spine perfectly.

“Why the dots?” he asked quietly, letting go.

Claire got up from the stool and stood there for a moment, her back turned to him.

“They’re in memory of the people I couldn’t save.” She brought her hands up to rub her arms as if cold. Her jaws clenched as she stared at a blank space on the piano. He stayed quiet. “Nine people trusted me to help them. They trusted me to save them from the pain. To do anything to fix what was broken. And nine people died because of my inability to help.”

“Claire…” He started. But he didn’t know how to continue. How do you ease the pain of losing someone? How do you ask yourself not to take the blame when all that you’ve done amounted to nothing? The words she said brought back bad memories he tried to forget and he lowered his gaze. “It’s not your fault. You did what you could.”

“But I could have done more.” She retorted, turning back to look at him now. The way she immediately had an answer to his comment made him wonder how many times she told herself that. As if taken aback by her own comment, she blinked several times and cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spoil the mood.”

No longer willing to talk or even look at him, Claire moved herself away and walked over to the open floor kitchen behind him. The granite top counters were immaculate and everything seemed untouched. She made way to the fridge where she got a glass of water and gulped down every last drop. The ease of which they had conversed several minutes before now seemed tense with unspoken insecurity.

And who could blame her? She was speaking to a stranger about the most harrowing moments of her life. He sat down on one of the stools by the kitchen island counter and invited her to sit down with him. She poured out another glass of water, sat down opposite of him, and pushed the glass over to him. He took several big gulps of water and sat it down. His hands went around the circular glass and absentmindedly traced the rim with his index finger.

“My mother was an addict.” He said after some time. “Every day, I would see cuts on her wrists and thighs that weren’t there the day before. Every day, I saw new ones on her body and whenever I asked she would tell me that it was something she had to do. I took that answer at face value. I never questioned it. It was just something she had to do. That’s how stupid I was, Claire. She was cutting herself every fucking day and I just let her. Not because I didn’t care. I did. So much. But I was ignorant. I thought she could handle herself. I thought she knew when to stop and her own limitations. I mean, she was in her thirties. I was only a kid, barely 18.”

He felt his voice breaking and stopped short, taking several more gulps of water.

“You don’t have to do this, Bell.” Claire said.

He ignored her comment and continued.

“I should have seen the warning signs. I should have paid more attention in health class. I should have told someone or did something. But I didn’t.” A pause. “I came home one day and saw her in a pool of her own blood. It looked like she was tortured by an insane murderer. But she _was_ the murderer. She wanted more than her addiction could give. She wanted more than the love that my sister and I could give her. She was selfish until the very end. But.. so was I. I was so self-absorbed I couldn’t see how much she was suffering until it was too late.”

“You were eighteen.”

“But I could have done more,” he repeated what she said back to her.

Recognizing this, Claire lowered her gaze. The two of them sat there in sobering silence, both distracted by haunted memories from long ago. It wasn’t as if they haven’t done this before, wondering about what the what-ifs, could-haves and should-haves. But it was the first time they did it in the presence of someone else. Sitting there across from each other and separated by the island counter, the two of them were suffering through the same problem. They might not have the same type of background or the same type of experiences, but their pain was one and the same. That mattered so much more than how expensive they like their whiskey.

After several minutes, the sound of a chair scraping against the wooden floor pulled his attention away from the glass of water Bellamy was mindless staring at. He looked up and watched in silence as Claire made her way around the island counter. She stopped right in front of him and gently pulled him into an embrace he didn’t know he needed until then. The warmth radiating from her body was enough ease the tension in his body and he leaned against her, circling his arms around her waist for support.

“I know you want forgiveness for what you’ve done and I’m telling you right now that there’s nothing to forgive. You did nothing wrong.” He pulled away to tell her otherwise, but stopped short at the look on her face. “But fine, I’ll give it to you Bellamy. You’re forgiven, okay?”

The lump in his throat at the start of his confession had gotten even larger at Claire’s words and he had to clear his throat twice before he could say anything.

“I never thought I’d be drinking whiskey from Japan with a stranger and have her tell me I’ve been forgiven for killing my mother all in the same day.”

“Technically, it’s a different day now.” She pointed out.

“What are you, the time keeper?”

“Time Lord.”

He chuckled.

“I didn’t know you were a Doctor Who fan.”

“Who isn’t?”

“My sister.” The look on Claire’s face told him he should elaborate so he continued. “She hates the show. She thinks the plots are weak and the actors suck balls. Her expression, not mine.”

Claire let out a mocking gasp of horror.

“Your sister needs to watch David Tennant agonize over the fate of Mars.”

The awe he had for the woman in front of him magnified tenth fold, no pun intended.

“It was the best one.”

“The best? I don’t know about that. I think the best episode was Midnight.”

He frowned.

“Which one is that?”

“The one where they’re on a train.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“You know, the one with the monster who keeps mimicking other people. And then when it starts mimicking the Doctor, he started losing his voice?”

“Oh! Yeah you’re right. I had chills the entire time, Claire. It was crazy.”

“Clarke.” She corrected.

“What?”

“My name is Clarke. Clarke Griffin.”

He stared at her for a second, slightly amazed that she had kept up with her lie for so long, and let out a loud chuckle.  

“The name suits you, Clarke.”

“Thank you, Bellamy.”

Clarke made a move to get out of his embrace, but he tightened his hold on her waist and turned her attention back to him.

“Clarke, don’t think I didn’t forget why I started talking about my mother.” He felt her tense beneath his hold but he continued. “You’re a doctor. You save more lives than you think. So what if nine people died on your watch? Hundreds of others lived because of you. Shouldn’t that count for something?”

“I’m supposed to be the good guy.” Clarke pointed out. “What’s the point of all this medical knowledge if I can’t even save one little girl?”

“Maybe there are no good guys.” The look on Clarke’s face told him she didn’t believe him and there wasn’t anything he could say that would make her believe. He reached up and took her chin in his hand, gently nudging it so that their eyes would meet. Her jaws clenched at the contact but she did not pull away. Instead, she put her hands around his neck and inched a step closer. The heat of her body seared his skin. “If you need forgiveness Clarke, I’ll give that to you. You’re forgiven.”

They looked at each other. The resonating echo of their words was like a jolt to their system and the strange mix of familiarity made their gaze all the more intimate in that small enclosed space. He traced his left hand through the lengths of her silky blonde hair, messing with the stylized tangled locks in a way that made him long even more for the woman, and leaned forward until he took her lips in a kiss. The union of their mouths shattered all forms of resistance in their bodies. His grip on her hand tightened as if to calm himself down and when he felt her laugh vibrate against the pressure of their lips, he gently nipped her.

She gasped and he drank in the taste of her, losing himself in her kiss. Everything seemed to dissolve away then. All he could feel was how perfect the pressure of her lips was and how the thunder in his ears did nothing to dampen the heat roaming all over his body. And the softness of her lips as he kissed her was simply velvet.

No other thoughts came to mind as their tongues danced back and forth; intertwining, becoming one, mating. Both of their breathing increased in volume and intensity as they breathed into each other, gulping in between kisses to only want more and more of each other. He tried to pull his hand away from her hair but she distracted him, blessing him with quick, pecking kisses that took his breath away each time. He moaned into her mouth and buried a hand in her hair, pulling her tighter and closer to him as humanly possible.

As he felt her grip on him loosen, he slipped his hand away. His right hand tentatively began to close around her small, satin-clad waist and held on as her hands came up to touch his chest. The wet surge of her tongue in his mouth and the sudden intrusion of her cold hands against his heated flesh drove him crazy. He abruptly pulled away from her. He took off his suit jacket and threw the garment out of his sight. Yanking at his tie around his neck and the shirt that was tucked into his pants, he took them off too. He returned his eyes to gaze obsessively at the woman, wondering about where the passion in her eyes would lead him, before he closed the distance between them once again.

A soft sigh escaped her as he traced her full lips with the tip of his finger. Her blue eyes fluttered shut. Her hands softly traced his body as their kiss deepened and their hunger for each other grew. His tongue darted into her mouth, swirling around hers, as his hands reached up to touch her breasts through the material of her dress.

He slowly kissed over her left ear, licking along the outside of it, and then moved down to suck lightly on the lobe. His hands squeezed the nipples that reached out to meet his touch. She slipped her fingers beneath his lining of his pants and tugged at the belt.

He chuckled softly, whispering nonsense huskily into her ears, and moved further down her neck. Kissing and nibbling her creamy, scorching skin, he teased her with his tongue and she groaned. He had no doubts she knew where else he would do that. He pulled the straps of her dress down her shoulders, kissing, licking, and biting as he went. Just like that, her glittering blue dress fell to the floor beneath her. Her breasts were now bare for his eyes to feast upon and his tongue to lavish wet kisses on.

He took a nipple into his mouth. The heat of his wet inviting mouth caused her peachy nipple to harden inside of his mouth and he teased it gently with his teeth, licking and sucking on the flesh. Her hands trailed across his back, gripping and holding on to him for support as he attacked her body with caressing kisses of the tongue.

His tongue licked and nibbled down between each breast, taking to him a job of wetting and marking her blushed skin with his saliva. He continued down her stomach and teased her belly button with the tip of his tongue. But before he could travel further down, she pulled him up from his knees and snaked her fingers around his neck for another kiss. She pulled him down to her as their lips mingled with each other in long, wet, exchanges and pushed his hand down towards her crotch area to touch her sex.

Recognizing her wants and her needs, he quickly snapped the strings on her flimsy panties and cupped her bare. She groaned and unconsciously scratched his back as he slipped one finger into her seeping wetness. He hissed at her harsh treatment of his back but then groaned when her nimble fingers unexpectedly pressed against his crotch. He started to gently thrust against her hand and slowly watched from the corner of his eyes as she undid his belt then his trousers.

After much struggling and quivering desires as his finger attacked her, she finally released him from the confines of his pants. He quickly kicked off the trousers from his legs and he sprang free. He didn’t bother looking at her reaction as he plunged another finger inside of her, reveling at the ecstasy swimming across her face at his probing fingers. He let out a deep, low growl when, at the same time, she latched both of her hands onto his sex to grip and stroked and probed it with her hands. Both their mouths and tongues continued to meet and kiss, suckle and intertwine, as they explored each other. A moment later, he reluctantly removed his fingers from her wetness and pulled himself away from her hands.

The action made her look at him with a question in her eyes but that soon vanished when he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the other side of the room so he could gently set her down on the bed. She reached out and pulled him to her, letting him fall on top of her in a jumble of naked mess. Their lips kissed once again, heavier and harder as if racing against time. His soul was on fire with longing.

“I want you inside me,” Clarke whispered against his lips. “Now.”

He broke their kiss. His dark brown eyes gazed into the depths of her bright blue ones. He saw her desire for him in her unfocused orbs as he lined himself against her sex. The feel of her warm silky wetness on the head of his hardness made him tremble slightly and the gesture of her parting her legs for him did nothing to ease his nervousness.

“Are you sure? I don’t have a con—”

“I’m clean.”

“So am I.”

“So do it.”

Seeing his own face reflecting against the wanton gaze of her eyes, he licked his lips in anticipation. He moved over her until his hands were on either side of her head, pressed them hard against the bed for balance, and slowly entered her. He took it as slowly as he could ever possibly take, wanting to savor the moment for as long as he could.Their eyes locked on each other. As he slid deeper inside of her, he lowered his face to hers and gave her lips an innocent peck. She closed her fluttering eyes and let out a moan, pushing against him. He was now completely inside of her, fit and perfect like they belonged together. Never had he felt anything like this and he didn’t want it to stop.

“Clarke,” he paused.  

“Bellamy, please…” Clarke pressed her hand against his hip and urged him forward.

“What do you want?”

“I want you to fuck me hard.”

“You got it princess.”

A second later, he kissed her deeply and intensely, over and over and over again as she screamed for him. His eyes never left hers. They were devouring each other, sucking and biting and kissing each other with lose abandon as his thrusts met with hers in a perfect, erratically hard and fast rhythm of desperation. Grinding their pubic bones together and making sure to have contact where she would receive the most pleasure, he felt the pressure build inside of him.

He quickened his pace and she matched his strokes with her own responses, little spasms raking through their bodies one after the next. Her body convulsed on him and the sensations of her muscles squeezing him made him gasp. He could no longer hold back. He stroked deep inside of her and exploded, the intensity of his climax matching hers as she flooded. They were one as their bodies quaked and their souls exploded in intense, draining, and all consuming pleasure. Their cries of completion echoed around the room.

The moment lasted an eternity before it was over and he collapsed on top of her, the both of them gasping for breath. He brushed his hands gently across the wet locks of her hair and kissed her forehead. She in turn kissed his high nose, slick with sweat. She moved to prop herself up on her elbows and her action caused him to growl at the sensation of being suddenly buried to the hilt in her once again. They took a deep breath and looked down.

The two of them were connected at the hips, his hips wedged between hers in the most sensual way. He looked into her eyes, saw the mischievousness dancing in those orbs, and slowly shook his head to warn her against what she was about to do. She simply smiled at him and slowly moved back a bit. The movement exposed him, engorged inside of her, wet with thick strings of the juices they had created together. As soon as the sight graced both of their eyes, he pushed himself back into her. She arched her back and screamed. The feeling of being inside of her, at the wetness, the warmth, and the velvet tightness, was incredible. They made love for hours. And yes, he did order her food. 

**+++++++++++++++++++++++++++**

But when he came to later that morning, he was alone. Only the smell of her perfume lingering on the rumpled bed sheets told him she wasn’t a figment of his imagination. He opened and closed his eyes, repeating the motion until he could see clearly. The bright sunlight coming from the windows did nothing to aid him in his task. He sat up on the bed and looked around. Thanks to the studio lay out of the hotel room, he could see into the living room and kitchen quite easily. Remnants of his attire from last night were strewn about on the floor, but hers was nowhere to be found.

“Clarke?” He called out.

He had expected it, but the silence that followed his voice was deafening to his ears. The beautiful blonde stranger that drank with him last night was gone. After a quiet moment in bed, he got out of bed and walked over to the grand piano in the living room. Perched on the musical instrument was the bottle of Clarke’s 30 year old whiskey from Japan and the two shot glasses they stole from the bar. His tongue can still taste the fruity bitterness of the whiskey and the lingering sweetness of her kisses…

He took a deep breath and shook his head of the haze he was in, walking away from the piano to go to the bathroom. That same moment, the door to his studio clicked open. He froze for a second. Since he was the only one who had access to the room, he didn’t think to put on any pants and if the door opened any further the cleaning lady was going to get an eye full.

“I’m naked.” He called out, dashing to his bedroom.

He picked up the pair of briefs he left forgotten on the floor the night before and put them on just as Clarke Griffin entered the room. He looked at her, eyes wide open and looking like a deer caught in headlights. The girl had changed out of her party dress and was now simply wearing a pair of yoga pants and a shirt that instantly told him she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her light blonde hair was plaited in a French braid this time and judging from the lack of frizz on her head, she had just taken a shower presumably in her own hotel room. He thought she looked more beautiful than the night before. 

“It’s not as if I haven’t seen anything before,” said Clarke with a mocking smile on her face.

“How did you get in?” He asked.

“I stole your key.” She waved the card key in her hand and walked over to the piano to set it down right next to the bottle of whiskey. Then, as if reading the situation, she turned to him and raised an eyebrow. “Was I not supposed to come back?”

“No, no, that’s not it.” He said, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He rubbed the back of his neck in nervousness. “I just thought you left without saying good bye.”

“And leave my 30 year old whiskey from Japan behind? I think not.” They laughed at the on-going joke. “Plus, I wanted to see you again.”

Hiding his mirth underneath a calm façade, he walked over to the woman and leaned against the piano.

“And why’s that?” He asked.

“Because…” Clarke took out her phone and began scrolling through something. “I read an interesting article today about a band named The Delinquents receiving an American Music Award for favorite pop/rock album of the year. Do you happen to know who the lead singer of said band is?”

“No, who?”

“One Bellamy Blake.” She looked up at him then and he tried to keep a straight face as she stared at him with searing blue eyes. “It's so funny. He has the same name as you. And get this, that Bellamy Blake took photos with his band mates in really nice looking tuxedo, something like the one you wore last night, and sort of looks like you actually.”

“Huh,” he said nonchalantly.

“Huh indeed.” Clarke rolled her eyes and put her phone down, stepping an inch closer to him. “It's so weird. I've never heard of him before."

"Blake is a pretty low key singer."

"But he still won an AMA. That's quite something. Heck, if I ever offer him a 30 year old whiskey from Japan he probably would have the money to pay for it. What do you think? Also, you owe me $5,000." 

He scoffed at her statement, rolling his eyes for good measure.

“I didn’t finish the bottle. I’m not paying you $5,000.” He took a step forward and pressed his arms around her waist. “I guess you’ll have to stick around.”

“Huh,” she mocked him. “I guess I have to.”

The two of them didn't say anything else afterwards, simply enjoying each other's company with the bottle of 30 year old whiskey from Japan sitting there on the piano. 

**Author's Note:**

> And... That's the end. I hope you guys liked it. If you do, please comment! Thanks!


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